Chapter Eight
BIRDIE PULLED UP to the main house on the ranch, and the knots in her chest loosened a little.
If ever there was a time when she needed the comforts of home, it was now.
She’d been stewing over Ragnar, telling herself to forget him, that he wasn’t worth her energy.
But that hadn’t stopped her from looking for him on the slopes yesterday or picking apart all the ways they had connected and how much she’d enjoyed being with him.
He was like a recipe for her favorite chocolate that she didn’t have all the ingredients to make, as infuriating as he was addictive.
It figured she’d have the best sex of her life with what might be the only man on the planet who appreciated her for who she was and ticked all of her scattered boxes, then disappeared into thin air, like he’d never existed.
Could I have conjured him?
Oh God. Am I losing my freaking mind?
She rolled her eyes at the thought. The man had made the earth move. There was no way she’d imagined that. She smiled with the memories, then immediately squashed it, refusing to get lost in thoughts of a man who disappeared like a Wi-Fi signal in a snowstorm.
She threw open her car door and waved to Hyde and Taz as they headed up to the front door. They had gone through programs on the ranch years ago and had stayed on as ranch hands.
Everyone who lived and worked on the ranch ate meals together in the main house.
Many of the people who came to the ranch had not only lost their purpose and footing, but they’d lost their families and friends, too.
Her parents had designed the program to bring people together and give them a sense of family, which in Birdie’s eyes was one of the best things her family had to offer.
They might drive her crazy at times, but she’d be lost without them.
As she climbed out of her car, she spotted Cowboy, her most overprotective brother, and his wife, Sully, heading up the grass on horseback.
On foot, a short distance away, were Sasha, her husband, Ezra, and their little boy, Gus.
Ezra was a therapist on the ranch. They’d gotten married last year, and her sister had never been happier.
Doc and Dare and Doc’s son, Lucas, were with them.
Lucas was thumbing something out on his phone.
At seventeen, he was all long limbs and shaggy hair sticking out from beneath the Western hat he wore like a uniform, exactly like his father and uncles.
Birdie was just glad he was healthy and still in remission from Hodgkin’s disease, which he was diagnosed with two years ago.
“Aunt Birdie!” Gus hollered, and barreled toward her, arms pumping, mop of dark curls bouncing. “Guess what?” he shouted, skidding to a stop in front of her. “Dwight is making blueberry pancakes! I bet I can eat more than you!”
Dwight Cornwall, their residential manager and cook, was a retired navy commander and a Dark Knight. He’d also been a grounding force in Birdie’s life since she was in elementary school.
Birdie scooped up Gus, his giggles ringing out, his cowboy boots swinging as she settled him on her hip. “No way, little man. You’re going down. I’m the queen of stuffing my face with sugary goodness.”
“And yet you’re still the size of a sexy string bean,” Sasha teased. She looked cute, bundled up in a scarf, her blond hair trapped beneath a white knit hat.
Birdie flashed a cheesy grin, but she’d trade her petiteness for Sasha’s curves any day of the week.
“If Gus keeps growing like a weed, he’s going to be the one holding you soon,” Ezra said as they approached.
It was hard to believe Gus was seven already. “I’ll allow it, as long as he doesn’t drop me.” Birdie tickled Gus’s stomach, earning more giggles.
Gus wriggled out of her arms and took off running toward Lucas, who was pocketing his phone.
“Hey, Birdie!” Lucas called over as Gus fell into step beside him. “See you inside.”
She waved.
“Hey, Birdie. Sorry to split, but I need an IV of coffee this morning,” Ezra said.
“And I need to talk to Cowboy and Sully,” Sasha said. “See you guys inside.”
As they walked away, Doc said, “Good to see you, sis.”
Dare draped an arm around her shoulders and said, “How’s it going, mooch?”
She was close to all of her brothers, but she was closest to Dare.
He was a daredevil to his core and understood Birdie in a way the others didn’t.
He’d always watched out for her differently than he did the others, taking care of her when she was sick and trying to alleviate her fears, no matter how silly they might be.
He’d coined the name Birdie for her when she was little, because she was so small, and he was also generous to a fault.
For her twenty-fifth birthday, he’d restored and given her the ’78 T-top Camaro she drove.
“Still incredibly hot and undeniably single,” she said as they headed for the entrance. “Where’s Billie?”
“Teaching an early motocross class,” Dare said.
Billie had once been as much of a daredevil as Dare was, and a professional motocross racer. She’d given it up after her and Dare’s best friend, Eddie, was killed in a stunt gone wrong.
“She sure puts that track you built her to good use.” Birdie looked at Doc and said, “Where’s your beautiful wife and my favorite niece?” Doc and his wife, Juliette, had an adorable almost-one-year-old daughter, Hazel, named for Juliette’s grandmother.
“Hazel had a rough night,” Doc said as he pulled open the door and held it for them. “She and Juliette are sleeping in.”
Birdie followed her brothers toward the buzz of banter and conversation as ranch hands and therapy clients milled around the buffet and coffee station in the dining room.
As they stepped into the room, their mother rounded the corner from the hallway—and Birdie stopped cold, her breath locking in her chest. Ragnar stood beside her mother.
His hair was shorter, but she’d know those piercing dark eyes anywhere.
What the hell…? Their eyes locked for a split second before his gaze shifted to Dare.
Dare bared his teeth, gritting out, “Motherfucker,” and then his fist connected with Ragnar’s jaw. Ragnar’s head snapped to the side.
“Dare!” Birdie and her mother shouted in unison. Voices exploded around them, chairs scraped, footsteps pounded closer, and Birdie’s thoughts flew. Dare knows about us? Oh God. How—
Shouts rang out as Dare grabbed Ragnar with both hands, his eyes full of rage, and threw him against the wall. Ragnar didn’t fight back, didn’t flinch, as Dare punched him again.
“Dare, stop!” Birdie pleaded, but Doc and Cowboy were already hauling him off Ragnar.
“Get the fuck off me!” Dare roared, fighting against them. “He nearly killed Billie! You’re dead, Hendricks!”
Chaos surged, and Birdie felt like the walls were closing in. Hendricks? You’re Crew Hendricks? The guy who hit Dare and Billie on the motorcycle? She couldn’t breathe.
Her father’s voice cut through it all like a blade. “That’s enough!” He stepped between Ragnar—Crew. Oh God. Crew?—and Dare, leveling Dare with a dark stare before shooting a look at Ragnar. “Be here tomorrow at eight and be ready to work.”
“What the fuck?” Dare shouted, fighting against Cowboy and Doc. “He doesn’t belong here!”
Her father’s eyes remained trained on Ragnar. He lifted his chin toward the door and said, “Go,” leaving no room for questions.
Crew shot a regretful look at Birdie.
Her heart hammered so hard it hurt. Did you know who I was? Did you use me? She couldn’t ask, could barely think as those dark eyes that had seen into her heart shifted to Dare again, and he said, “I’m sorry,” then turned to leave.
Dare shouted curses and threats after him, struggling to break free from Cowboy’s and Doc’s grips.
Their father’s serious gaze swept over them, and he gritted out, “Family meeting. Now.”
BIRDIE FELT SICK. The tension in the conference room was rabid, snapping in the air as Dare paced like something feral had torn loose inside him, spewing vitriol like an erupting volcano, face red, veins corded in his tatted-up neck, shoulders locked high and rigid.
“Have you completely lost your damn minds?” Dare seethed. “How could you let the man who nearly killed my wife walk onto this ranch?”
Birdie couldn’t make sense of Ragnar being there either, and she had no idea how her father could face off with Dare and keep his cool.
She’d never seen her father so much as flinch at a confrontation.
He was the definition of fearless, and she’d always believed he’d stop at nothing to protect his family.
But this was different. Wildly so for her, since she’d slept with the enemy.
Although Ragnar hadn’t felt like the enemy, but Crew… ?
“He came looking for you,” their father said, flat and final. “Your mother intercepted him.”
Dare glowered at their mother. “You should’ve told him where to find me. I’d’ve taken good care of him.”
Their mother’s expression softened in a way Birdie knew well, and disliked. It was the look that said she was sorry, but she’d done something for their own good. “That’s what I was worried about.”
“You crossed a line,” Dare fumed. “You don’t get to decide what version of me that asshole gets.”
“Watch yourself, son,” their father warned.
Undeterred by Dare’s ire, their mother said, “You don’t get to pretend that confronting him in this state would’ve brought you any kind of peace.”
“You have no idea,” Dare sneered.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” their father said so sharply, even the room seemed to hold its breath. “It would’ve put blood on your hands, turning you into someone Billie doesn’t recognize.”
Dare turned on him, eyes blazing, fists so tight, his knuckles were white.
He stalked forward. Cowboy and Doc were just as quick.
Cowboy, the largest of her brothers, planted himself equal distance between Dare and their father.
Loyalty ran deep in their family. Doc stood behind Dare.
Birdie got the sense that it was a calculated move, ready to grab Dare if he lost his mind and went after their father.
“You can’t tell me you wouldn’t want retribution if you were in my shoes,” Dare challenged.
Their father didn’t back down. “That man walked onto this ranch knowing exactly who you were and how you would react,” he said in a deathly calm voice, clearly choosing not to address Dare’s accusation.
“He didn’t come here asking for forgiveness.
He came to face his past and try to make amends any way he could. ”
Dare scoffed, his hands fisted. “He doesn’t get to make amends for this.”
Cowboy stepped up, jaw tight. “Dare—”
“Don’t.” Dare glowered at him. “You have no idea what this feels like.”
Cowboy turned his full breadth on him. “You’re damn right I don’t. My wife was abused for years by a man who wouldn’t make amends if you fucking paid him. What happened to you and Billie is horrible, but—”
“Don’t even think about telling me I have to forgive that motherfucker,” Dare warned.
“Nobody is asking you to forgive him,” Doc said.
“Then why is he showing up on this ranch tomorrow?” Dare seethed.
Meeting Dare’s fury head-on, their father said, “Because this ranch was built on the belief that people don’t get written off forever for the mistakes they’ve made.”
“My wife still has gaps in her memory,” Dare ground out. “And you’re telling me he gets to sleep easy under our roof?”
Birdie’s stomach twisted. She felt like she’d brought this trouble into their family. She knew that wasn’t rational, but she was too angry and confused to think straight.
“I don’t think Crew Hendricks will sleep easy anywhere,” their mother said. “He’s tortured by this, Dare.”
Dare scoffed. “He can’t be tortured enough.”
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about this,” Sasha whispered anxiously to Birdie. “I’ve always believed in what we stand for, but this is different. This is us.”
Ragnar’s voice trampled roughly through Birdie’s mind. You’re playing with fire, sexy girl. I have a thing for chocolate, and apparently for us, too.
Her heart squeezed, but as her brothers and parents argued about second chances and who deserved them, Birdie’s thoughts stumbled into another memory from Saturday night, when she’d asked Ragnar if he was leaving, and he’d said, Not until you’re thoroughly fucked.
She’d thought it was sexy in the moment, but now it felt wholly different.
“How do you feel about all of this?” Sasha whispered, bringing her back to the moment.
Birdie didn’t dare open her mouth, afraid some combination of hurt, anger, regret, and humiliation would come rushing out. Instead, she shrugged, wondering how she could have been so wrong about someone who had felt so right.